


do not go gentle into that good night.

by gardenofgod



Category: Hotel Del Luna, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, a hotel del luna! au, svt cameos here and there, there is nothing other than historical au that i write, watch it it's great
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 16:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20138212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardenofgod/pseuds/gardenofgod
Summary: Perhaps after all the bloodbath, they would come back home to each other – after so much sacrifice and struggle, the red string of fate would finally show some mercy on them. He surely didn’t deserve a happy ending, but for once, he prayed to the gods out there for a new breath of life. He’d let Wonwoo hurt him, once, twice, as many times as he’d want to, as long as they remained connected together.





	do not go gentle into that good night.

**Author's Note:**

> a hotel del luna! au. because i'm a sucker for things like twisted fates.

_ **teaser. ** _

“Kim Mingyu,” his hand still shook, as he grasped Wonwoo’s within his, in a modern greeting.

“Welcome,” the latter’s voice was indifferent, “to Hotel Del Luna.”

Had he given up on hoping for Mingyu’s return? Or had he spent the past thousand years dreading the day Mingyu would come to his doorstep? Unlike Mingyu, he had not been reborn, instead trapped in a frozen time and space, breathing for a lost millennium that had not been his. If he were Wonwoo, he’d have chosen blissful ignorance over the jaded sentience he carried in his disposition now.

Round and round they went, in a terrible display of karma and rebirth. Wonwoo could no longer tell one from another.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” he began, “son of a rebel faction, leader of the bandits.”

He felt the boy’s hand stiffen in his, and Wonwoo made to retract it from Mingyu’s grasp. He tightened his hold on it, refusing to let go. 

Wonwoo’s eyes flickered back up, and his gaze spoke of loneliness, hatred, loss; with an intensity that could not be matched by any flame of this world. Was there still tenderness enveloped within it? Mingyu couldn’t tell.

“Jeon Wonwoo, who always carried a wine flask with a full moon engraved on it. Jeon Wonwoo, who sat quietly by the river at the border of Baekje, moon-watching. Jeon Wonwoo, who took fireflies from my palm and sent them off into the night sky with a kiss. Jeon Wonwoo, who sat in my room the night of my wedding, wielding his sword. Jeon Wonwoo, who stirred the moon in the water. Jeon Wonwoo, who huddled by the fire under the warm glow of a kerosene lamp, waiting for someone. Jeon Wonwoo, who is tied down to this lavish prison of a hotel. Jeon Wonwoo, whose glances I cannot forget, whose hands have set my heart alight.”

He had expected rage, had hoped, even the slightest, for elation.

Wonwoo stilled for a second, before his expression was schooled back into one of practiced nonchalance. “I see our new general manager has done his research. Who told you all this? One of the deities, I presume. After all, your job is to send me off to the afterlife, and you can’t do that without knowing all the good, the bad and the ugly.”

Mingyu sucked in a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His hand, still extended awkwardly after Wonwoo had long withdrawn his, folded back; and he tucked it into his pocket. His fingers closed around a ceramic shard, once part of an intricate wine bottle, bearing the emblem of a full moon sliced into half with a sword.

_Still not time yet._


End file.
